Nobility
by Clumsy Psychopath
Summary: "I will always love you," the exact moment a blinding white light encompassed the older sharingan user, in another world a grey-eyed child took his first breath.
1. Revivescere

Yo... My first crossover.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, and neither does Naruto.

Pairings: I don't think there is going to be any pairing at this stage. They are kids.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Revivescere**

* * *

Lips parted, and perhaps for the first time, the dark-haired teenager saw the older man smile.

"I will always love you," white light seemed to engulf the reanimated body of his brother, and he saw the spirit of one of the most powerful shinobi of his generation rise to the heavens.

With a parting smile, the elder pacifist felt himself being braced by the soft fingers of death.

* * *

"M'lord, the Dark Lord has fallen." a young man in his early twenties clad in a black cloak was on his knees, his eyes steadfast on the dark mahogany wooden floor.

Before him, sitting in an old chair was the epitome of grace and power.

The man looked old and weathered and yet his aura was unquestionable.

"Then I fear the worst has come to pass," the man opened his eyes, his grey pupils focusing on a parchment sitting on the table in front of him.

"Take your men and make sure all evidence of our involvement is erased."

"As you wish m'lord."

The young man stood and left the library as silently as he had arrived, he had bodies to dispose of and auror records to straighten.

'The mongrels might have won the battle, but the war has yet to commence.' with this thought in mind, Lord Arcturus Black got up from his seat of power and went to stand beside the open window, taking in the sound of firecrackers and echoes of laughter the common rabble exuded.

A gentle knock brought him out of his reverie.

"Come-in."

A mediwitch in her mid-thirties entered the room. In her hands, a small babe wrapped in a towel.

"It's a boy m'lord."

A small smile graced the face of the said lord as he extended his hands, taking the tiny form of his great-grandson from the healer in question.

"And what of the mother?" the sharp eyes focused back on the woman in front of him.

"The body was disposed of just as you commanded," the mediwitch looked a bit uncomfortable, but continued nonetheless "no one except me knows where the remains are buried."

"And it shall remain that way," the older man went back to his seat, his arms cradling the future of his house.

"My lord?" for the first time the witch dared to look up, confusion evident on her face.

"Avada Kedavra."

And just like that, her life was extinguished.

"Kreacher," the man murmured "clean my library, would you?"

Looking down at the grey eyes of his heir, he observed the boy in question.

Yes, he would make a worthy successor indeed.

"Welcome to this world, Altair Black."

* * *

**Muse:**

It would be AU if you didn't already get the hint.

Like it? Hate it? Review and share your opinions…

Seriously, please review and let me know if you want more of this.

The title of this chapter Revivescere means "to live again".

Sirius had no middle name.

_It's a tradition in some aristocratic families to name the firstborn son after the child's father and the second-born son after the child's paternal grandfather. Regulus and Sirius' grandfather's name is -you guessed it- Arcturus, hence Regulus Arcturus Black. It is relatively common in fandom to have Sirius' full name written as Sirius Orion Black._

_This is not corroborated anywhere in J.K. Rowling's writings or interviews._

Altair is the brightest star in Aquila constellation. Going by the tradition, the Blacks have been known to name their progenies after stars.

No, Itachi would not remember his past. Not for a long time at least. That would have made it all way too easy, and we can't have that, can we?

Rest assured I'll be as brutal as ever.

Don't forget to follow and favorite...

Stay tuned.

Cheers,

Clumsy Psychopath


	2. Domini de Magia

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, and neither does Naruto.

* * *

**Chapter 2: ****Domini de Magia**

* * *

A small pop was the only sound that escaped as the house-elf entered the room of his young master.

As always, the heir to the ancient and noble house of Black was found sitting behind a small table near the windows going through tomes of arcane magicks.

The pale young wizard had his hair tied with a green ribbon, his eyes going through the passages, and his fingers twirling a quill in mid-air.

"Caw.. Caw..." the ravens, sensing the intruder alerted their master, and Altair turned to his visitor.

"Master Black, breakfast is served," the elf bowed low "His Lordship is at the moment on his way to the dining hall."

Even as he bowed, the elve's eyes were trained contemptuously at the unkindness of ravens perched atop the bed frame making shrill noises.

"Thank you, leecher," the wizard closed his book before getting up and placing it in a dark wooden shelf between _Olivia's guide to ornithology_ and _Crux's compendium of magical laws_, "I will be there soon."

To own even a single house-elf was a sign of wealth in their world; the house of Black owned three.

The elf's lips thinned; however, he straightened himself and disappeared with a pop. Leecher adored the young master, and although he was of the opinion that perhaps the young master was too gentle, he knew it wasn't his place to correct the scion of his house.

Putting his cloak above a black vest, Altair too started walking towards the door, his fingers adjusting the silver fastenings.

As he stepped down the stairs, his digits slipped in his pocket, searching for the pocket watch his great-grandfather had gifted him last year.

It was his birthday today.

He remembered a time when he used to enjoy his birthdays, but not anymore.

Unbidden, a memory came to the forefront of his mind; it was of the day Altair Black, the heir of Blacks, became aware of exactly what he was.

* * *

_It was a sunny day. _

_Altair had only just turned four, it was his birthday, and his great-grandfather had promised him a tour._

_The grey-eyed wizard and his great-grandfather were the only ones who lived in their home, and although he had never stepped out of Balor, except for his visits to Camelot, the __young wizard could, with all certainty, say that their home was one of the biggest in Albion._

_Their home, if one could call it that, was one of many in the peaceful city of Belor; it was here that the last of Blacks spent their days. His great-grandfather had on occasions taken __him to the cloudy city of Camelot where it was rumoured Merlin himself rested._

_"You're dallying, great-grandfather" the young wizard had protested as he stood at the door waiting for his guardian._

_The older wizard and his young charge were dressed in black overalls, their fastenings studded with diamonds._

_"Now, be close Altair," his grandfather had said with a soft voice, "do not stray far."_

_The city of Balor was an old one. It was a small borough Lord Peverell had himself established. _

_The old lord had once told the younger wizard that the three brothers once held a seat at the high table, however ever since the death of Lord Antonich and Lord Cadmus, Lord Ignotus had released the claim over the position and closed himself out of the mortal realm._

_Altair was confused by that, "Mortal realm?" he had asked his great-grandfather._

_The old wizard had smiled before cryptically offering, "There are realms far more numerous than grains of sand on a seaside."_

_It left Altair more bewildered than he was, to begin with, and so had decided to drop the subject for the moment._

_It was the thirty-first of October, and the city was bustling with people celebrating the annual festival in honour of the wizard-who-lived, Neville Longbottom, the orphan heir to the house of Longbottom._

_Bright lights decorated the roads, and a few children were playing on the sidewalk._

_The young and sheltered scion was lost in the magic of it all. _

_"Will the Seelie visit this year as well?" The young child had asked looking wondrously at the fairies dancing atop the streetlights._

_He recalled his great-grandfather telling him about last year when Lady Aurora of the summer court had herself visited the young saviour._

_'He must be a very powerful wizard,' Altair had wondered then._

_It was the first time in his life, the young wizard had seen something akin to doubt on his grandfather's face, "The matters of the Sidhe court are not for us mortals to wonder about."_

_Hearing no response, the wizard had turned back only to find himself lost._

_He tried calling his guardian, but his feeble voice was lost in the cacophony of the festival._

_The words of the older Black rang in his mind, and his heart pumped with fear._

_The crowd, which but a moment ago seemed merry and inviting, now seemed malevolent._

_"Hey there, kid." A wizard barely out of his teenage years bent down to his level, holding out his hand, he continued, "lost, are we?" _

_Hearing the voice, the young scion turned to face the stranger in question._

_The freckled wizard wore what looked like worn-out clothes, unlike Altair himself, but what he lost in appearance, he more than made up with his cheerful demeanour._

_"Eh... I'm not supposed to converse with strangers" Altair had reluctantly answered._

_"Nothing to worry about, mate," the wizard burst out laughing, "we'll find your mum and pop in no time."_

_The teenager ruffled his hair as he said that._

_The younger of the two opened his mouth to relay his gratitude, however before he could do so, a powerful beam of blue light hit the older wizard, throwing him a few feet back._

_Noise bated, and the crowd parted to reveal the elder Black, his wand held in his right hand._

_"How dare you touch your superiors?" before the teenager could utter another word, another shock of orange light sent him flinging back a few more feet, "Do not forget your place, filth."_

_Altair could only look in abject horror as yet another flick of his great-grandfather's wand cut off the teenager's right arm, searing the flesh and leaving the smell of charred meat in its wake._

_'He was only trying to help me' he wanted to say, however words refused to escape his lips. ___Altair felt his eye sting,_ as he held the hand his guardian had extended for him with nary a sound, and followed the elder Black with his gaze pointed downwards._

_The crowd was now completely silent, their heads bowed and their eyes glued to the ground. _

_The only sound one could hear was the whimpering of the young teen. _

_"Slouching is for the weak, Altair" his great-grandfather had tightened his grip "straighten your back."_

_Blinking his eyes a few more times to let the unshed tears he had for the unfortunate helper slide, Altair had straightened his back, looking every part the scion of his illustrious house._

_"Was it necessary, great-grandfather?" he had asked, hoping not to let his weakness show "He was only trying to help me."_

_"Consuetudo vincit communem legem," the older wizard had replied after a few moments, "custom overrules the common law."_

_"And though I found it distasteful, I couldn't have let him get away with touching you" there was a faint grimace where his usual stoic expression resided "The plebian ought to count his blessings. Had I not been in a mood so forgiving, this would have been the last mistake of his life."_

__Hearing the words, the young Black had, in his eyes, felt a prickling sensation.__

_"Remember Altair, everyone in our world holds a station," his great-grandfather's powerful words pushed through the roar of his inner turmoil "and one ought never to forget his."_

_'Station' was not a word the then four-year-old wizard had understood. _

_"Just as they are cretin to us," the wizard had continued, "so too are we to the likes of Lord Dumbledore and Lord Lefay and many more."_

_His great-grandfather's voice filled his ears, and little Altair listened to the harshness of his world. Should he relax his control, he knew the tears would once again come spilling out._

_It wasn't that he was scared. It wasn't that he was sad. An emotion he couldn't put into words surged within him. He didn't understood why, but he felt such tightness in his chest, he could hardly stand it._

_"You would do well to never forget this lesson." his great-grandfather had said, finishing his impromptu teachings as they re-entered their home._

_His tears had dried out, and the pain in his eyes receded, however, the pained visage of his helper was something he knew he would never forget. _

_'This is the world I would live in …' the child had thought, 'No, this might have been the world in which he was born, but he had no intention of sitting back and simply accepting it.'_

_'I will change it.'_

_This belief became the foundation of the wizard known as Altair Black._

_He never forgot that day._

_Altair had a clear objective: "Become the most powerful sorcerer ever and make sure no one ever feared to help a lone, afraid child."_

_An adult might speak of such a grandiose dream with a laugh. But for the four-year-old wizard, it was precious and irreplaceable._

_To achieve this, he would first learn the basics of magic from Hogwarts and then work diligently until he becomes one of the Lords of high table._

* * *

"Good Morning, great-grandfather" the wizard wished his only blood relative before sitting to the wizard's right and holding out a hand to which a jar of juice flew in.

"You have been practising," the older wizard folded the paper before letting it fly.

No sooner had the innocent newspaper started than it was torn to shreds by one of the ravens that flew in out of nowhere.

"Munin," the younger wizard chided, spreading butter on his toast "behave."

"It seems to me now that I might have made an error in judgement," the wizard sitting at the head table said in his usual soft voice "I should have thought thrice before getting you those birds."

"But it is only proper that I have them," Altair spoke in a voice just as soft, taking a sip of his juice, "We are the Blacks and ravens, our sigil."

Feeling sorry for the now properly chastised bird, he threw a piece of raw bacon in the air before looking at his great-grandfather, "Anything new?" He asked, referring to the now shredded newspaper lying in a corner.

"Alfred Potter has joined Lord Dumbledore," the wizard answered, taking a sip of his earl grey.

"It's been a long time coming," the child answered, eating the last of his toast, "Lord Fleamont and Lord James had both joined his side in the previous war."

"It has," his great-grandfather nodded in agreement, "however, this move weakens us even further."

During the last war, the Blacks had worked under the Dark Lord, and with his loss, their faction had taken a massive hit.

As of the moment, the Blacks had no connection to the high table and were it not for the riches his ancestors had collected over centuries, Altair was sure other families would have pounced upon them by now.

"I will try to scry Lord Ignotus once again tonight, he must know of the treachery the Potters have committed."

The now nine-year-old wizard sat there on the table deep in thought before holding his hand towards one of the windows and letting raw magic engulf him before sending a pulse and calling to him the tome he was reading earlier this morning.

"Would it not be wise of us to join Lord Slytherin's faction?"

It was an old argument, something they had discussed hundreds of times.

The old wizard sighed, looking at the tome that flew into the hand of his great-grandson. At nine, his heir had more power in his little finger than most commoners could ever hope to master in their entire lives.

Altair turned to the page where he had his research written in neat calligraphy and turned to his great-grandfather with his latest argument.

"I know, we are bound to Lord Grin..."

However, it was as far as the younger wizard went. It was as if the lights had dimmed and for a moment, even the air stilled before his great-grandfather's harsh voice cut through the void.

"I know not how you came across his name, but you would do well never to mention it ever again." The elder wizard stood up with a jerk, his eyes narrowed, and after a sharp look went down his study.

It was minutes before the feeling of dread lifted.

For all his faults, the Dark Lord was undoubtedly worthy of being hailed as one of the great Lords.

Not even Lady Morgana had been able to control darkness to such an extent.

However, it was not surprising; it was no secret that the Dark Lord had courted the queen of Unseelie herself.

For the thousandth time, the young wizard felt the thought pass through his head 'If only Lord Merlin were alive, the Sorcerer Supreme would never have let their world fall to such disgrace.'

Sighing the young wizard closed his eyelids remembering the promise he had made to himself all those years ago 'I would usher in this corrupt world an era of peace,' when he opened them again, red irises could be seen, containing within them a single black comma, his handsome features hardening once again 'no matter the cost'.

* * *

**Muse:**

Like it? Hate it? Review and share your opinions…

The title of this chapter "Domini de Magia" translates to "Lords of Magic". A tribute to taure for writing the most fascinating Harry potter AU I've ever read.

The names of the three ravens are 'Hugin, Munin and Seidr' which translates to 'Thought, Memory and Magic'.

Unlike my other stories, the main character in this one is not a psychopath. The Itachi we all know and love is flawed but kind. His intentions were always pure. Saying that, it certainly doesn't mean this story will be any less gritty.

Before being accepted in the root Itachi was asked a question "Ten of our brethren have been shipwrecked. One of them has caught a nasty, infectious disease. If he is allowed to live, the other nine will also get sick and die. If you were the captain of that ship, what judgment would you hand down?"

And the response Itachi instantaneously gave was "No matter what happens, the one who is sick is destined to die. If I were the captain, I would think that my first priority would be to save the lives of the other nine. I would choose to kill the one and save the nine."

Think about it, would you?

As you can see, it's going to be massive AU. Sit back and let me amaze you.

Kudos if you got every single reference I pointed to. You rock.

Thanks everyone for such an amazing response, you guys make me smile.

Send me tonnes of reviews.

Follow and favorite...

Stay tuned.

Cheers,

Clumsy Psychopath


	3. Draco dormiens

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, and neither does Naruto.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Draco dormiens**

* * *

"Hoot," A brown barn owl screeched as it sat upon the branch of an old oak tree looking at the house in front of the said tree.

Thrice the young owl had tried to enter a window perched atop the second floor of the said house to deliver its letter to the recipient and thrice had it been repelled. Its latest attempt had left its wings singed, and its throat parched.

Just as the avian was finally about to call it quits and fly back to the ancient castle from where it was sent that the gate opened and a young child walked out.

"Hoooot," the bird cried, its eyes zeroing in on the boy before jumping off the branch flying straight in the child's direction.

However, it was not meant to be.

A hand's distance from the boy, the bird found itself surrounded by thick dark smoke.

"Hoot," and the young owl knew no more.

The smoke lingering in the air condensed to form a raven, which then proceeded to snatch a light brown parchment from the talons of the now-dead owl.

"Seidr," The young boy called out with his hand outstretched, his eyes frowning with disapproval.

Upon hearing the child's voice, the corvid which had just now murdered the owl seemed a bit chastised before flowing back to its owner and dropping the letter into the hands of the said boy and resting on his right shoulder.

Looking at the letter in hand, the boy read the cursive handwritten message addressing him.

_To,_

_Altair of the Blacks,_

_The largest room on the second floor,_

_House of Black, Belor._

Turning the thick envelope, the boy's eyes were drawn to one of the most easily recognized and prominent sigils in their world.

Embossed upon the envelope in red wax was a crest with a dragon, its powerful wings outstretched, resting atop a stone with letter 'H' intricately carved into it.

"Kilgharrah," the boy whispered, looking at the ferocious dragon. A small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Looks like we're going to Hogwarts," the boy said out loud, looking at the three ravens.

"Come," he said to his familiars, "we need to prepare."

* * *

"Master Black," the squeaky voice of a wrinkly house-elf brought young Altair out of his reverie.

The young wizard was sitting on a sofa, in his hand the yet unopened letter.

Looking at the small creature, he raised an eyebrow waiting for the distant cousins of their more graceful counterparts to make its case.

"His Lordship is free to meet you now," the elf continued bowing low, trying to be helpful to the heir of its house "he is waiting for you in the study."

Giving the elf a nod, Altair got up and walked into the study.

Over the years, Arcturus Black had raised Altair to be the perfect scion of his illustrious house and the grace with which the young wizard walked into his study was only expected.

"You received your Hogwarts letter," the old Lord stated looking up from the parchments he was working on.

Altair didn't ask how he knew it, it was expected, and so with a nod, he extended the sealed letter to his great-grandfather.

"Sit down and read it to me," the old warlock said, keeping his quill aside and leaning back on his chair.

Once again, Altair just nodded and broke the seal keeping the envelope together.

"_Dear Mr. Black,_" he began after skimming the top part of the letter.

"_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._" he continued, "_Please find enclosed the list of all necessary books and equipment._"

"_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._" here he paused and then looked up "_Yours sincerely, Helena Ravenclaw, Elder, Council of Ravens._"

Looking at his great-grandfather, he noticed the old wizard lost in thoughts and so asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

"There's no need," Arcturus motioned with a sigh, standing up and walking up to the bookcase, a red book in hand, "summarise it for me."

Smoothing out the second parchment, Altair took a minute to read through the entire leaf before putting it back in the envelope and placing the envelope on the table.

"Uniforms, books, equipment, nothing extraordinary there."

"Hmmm," The elder Black gave his charge a nod before coming back to his table and rolling up the parchment he was working on moments ago and tying it to one of the ravens sitting in the corner. "Very well, get ready, we are going to Camelot."

With that the old wizard opened the window and let the raven take to the sky.

Upon seeing the confused look on his heir's face, he clarified, "This is a monumental occasion, Altair. You must present yourself to Lord Phineas at once."

Coming back to sit on his old chair he continued with a small smile "We also need to see Ollivander, it's time you got a wand."

Seeing the somewhat distracted look of Altair, he asked, "Is there something else you want to add?"

"First years are not allowed to participate in war games," Altair answered reluctantly.

Arcturus laughed.

* * *

Ancient.

That was the only way to describe the city of Camelot.

It held the seat of Pendragons, the council of high tables, the resting place of Merlin and Morgana, the seat of power of the four pillars of magic, and much, much more.

In the entirety of Albion, there was no other city as saturated in magic as this.

And this is where Altair found himself later in the day following his great-grandfather, standing at the gate of Castle Black to meet Lord Phineas Nigellus Black, the patriarch of the House of Black.

Walking in, Altair felt the wards of the ancient black estate pass through him, judging him and his intentions. He knew that had he been under disillusionment charms or had any ill will towards the Black patriarch; the wards would have killed him there and then in the most gruesome of ways.

And everyone knew, no one did gruesome quite like the Blacks.

Once inside, they were led by a house-elf to the study to wait for the Lord of Blacks.

And wait in silence they did.

After around two hours, the gate opened, and in came an old wizard, his eyes immediately focusing on Altair before training on Arcturus.

"Welcome Arcturus, I've been expecting you for two days now," he said, motioning to take a seat in front of his dark rich mahogany table.

Seeing Altair's look of confusion, the head of his family cracked a smile, "When you're as old as I am, you learn how to hear the unsaid and see the unseen."

'I've got spies everywhere,' in his mind, Altair translated.

"Come here, child," The ancient wizard said, as he sat at the chair behind the table, pointing at Altair to come and stand next to him.

Altair did.

For a long while, the old wizard kept staring into the eyes of the scion of his house before nodding and whispering, "Always pure," and with that, he held out his palm.

Altair was unfazed when a silver ring formed in the outstretched palm holding a small diamond in its center.

"Take it," the wizard motioned, "wear it on the third finger of your wand arm." He ordered before turning to Arcturus.

And once again Altair did it without a second thought.

"We have much to talk about Arcturus."

Altair got the signal and gave a small bow before turning to leave the room.

"Oh, and Altair," Phineas called, "next time, take care not to kill delivery owls."

The young boy flushed.

"Lord Gaunt has extend..." walking out, that was the last thing Altair heard before the door closed and the privacy wards went up.

A house-elf offered to take him up to the kitchen, but Altair refused it in favor of the library.

It took another hour before he saw Lord Black exiting the study with his great-grandfather in tow.

Altair closed the book he was reading, it was an essay by Mortimer Lindquist, dealing with the faeries and nevernever. Altair had a sense of deja vu when he learned about the nine beings of power, the eldritch sentinels of omnipotence residing in the outer territories.

Standing up, he went to place the book back from where he had picked it before heading towards his guardian.

He was about to put back his cloak on when the Black patriarch stopped him with a casual wave as if he had read Altair's mind.

"There's no need, I've summoned Ollivander."

And indeed, as if on cue, no sooner had he said so, the gates opened to reveal a house-elf accompanying an old wizard with rough patches of white hair and silvery eyes.

Their eyes met, and the wandmaker cracked a smile, "You must be Altair. Heartwood tree with a core of sphinx, I knew your father."

"Ollivander," Phineas said, welcoming the wizard, disrupting anything further the wandmaker had to say.

After some pleasantries, Altair followed the wandmaker to the library, the elf still walking with them carrying Ollivander's trunk.

Once settled, the old wandmaker began, "Sit back young Master Black and allow me a moment."

With a snap of his fingers, the latch on his trunk opened, and measuring tapes of all sizes started measuring Altair.

It was disconcerting.

It took a few minutes before Ollivander finished arranging boxes upon boxes of wands on the table in front of them and called off the tapes.

And then the grueling task of testing for wands started.

An hour, thirty-six wands, and two more measurements later, the couple found themselves sitting across each other.

"I wonder…" Ollivander paused, "yes, why not," he whispered, looking into the eyes of the quiet child sitting in front of him, handing the boy another wand.

The moment he touched the wand, Altair knew it was the one.

Blood red sparks shot out from the wand, his body filled with energy, voices started whispering in his ears, and asking him to let loose.

Altair had no idea when he closed his eyes, but when he opened it, he felt a drop of tear rolling down the edge of his left eye.

The world appeared to have slowed down, and there was a sting in his eyes.

Altair knew that had he looked into a mirror at that very moment; he would have seen red irises staring back at him.

What he didn't knew was that there were now two black commas in them.

A blink later, and the world was back to its normal state.

"Interesting..."

Looking at the old wandmaker, Altair motioned to elaborate.

"The wood used to make your wand was taken from Mitragyna speciosa, a tree from Rubiaceae family, the leaves of which are known for their psychedelic nature. Suffice to say," and here Ollivander broke his gaze, "few would be able to match your illusionary prowess once you come to maturity."

"...and what of the core?" Altair asked, his gaze caressing his new partner.

"Breathe of Nundu, voluntarily given."

* * *

The days blurred together, and soon, the end of the eighth month arrived.

Altair stood in front of the sink, thinking of all he had done up until now. This was one of the turning points in his life, and he knew it.

He had taken Ollivander's recommendation to heart and started focusing on mental magicks.

Looking into the mirror, he slowly blinked, pushing a tiny sliver of the vast ocean of magic that made up his form and watched in silence as his eye turned red, tomoes spinning in them hypnotizingly.

The water flowing from the tap slowed, and reality warped to cater to his wishes. Altair saw particles of dust floating around him, he noticed the individual flappings of wings on the fly buzzing in a corner of the room and he knew that should he choose, he could attack it with at least five spells with pinpoint accuracy between each flap.

So much power.

Another blink and then everything was back to its natural state.

With a sigh, he turned to walk out. There was no doubt that he was powerful, but he had ways to go before he could even think about standing with the likes of his great-grandfather, much less with Lord Dumbledore or Lord Gaunt.

"One day..." He swore to himself, "one day; I'll eclipse them all…"

* * *

**Muse:**

Like it? Hate it? Review and share your opinions…

The title of this chapter, "Draco dormiens" translates to "Sleeping Dragon."

Comment if you know who Kilgharrah is ;)

"Mortimer Lindquist" - look him up my dudes.

Canon has no mention of Sirius's wand's particulars, except that it was gray. Heartwood tree has sort of grayish wood so that's what I went with.

Just to be clear, I never said Itachi would never remember his past. He might, but it would take a while.

Itachi would grow in power, and he would need every help he can get to stand toe-to-toe with the likes of Mab, Dumbledore, and Voldemort.

***cough***It wouldn't be the first time a Sharingan user learned to summon the greatest of nine***cough***

Thanks, everyone for such a fantastic response, you guys make me smile.

You know the drill, and if you don't, well... it's along the lines of sending me tonnes of reviews.

Follow and favorite...

Stay tuned.

Cheers,

Clumsy Psychopath


End file.
